Wadhurst, huh. I'd heard wonderful stories about that place. It used to be one of the most beautiful locations in the United Kingdom before it was transformed into a refugee camp for those who had fought in the civil war or were simply caught in the crossfire as civilians. My family had visited once before I was born, and they raved about it, but they had to leave when the authorities caught up with them. They always described Wadhurst as a slice of heaven.

The nearest village for me would be Bellinghahm, just south of this forest. Reaching that village could potentially help me access self-driving car services to travel on to Wadhurst. But I had heard that these electric car charging stations were run by gangs and that using them could be costly.

Moreover, those electric cars were equipped with face-tracking systems, and given my wanted status, there was a real risk of them alerting the Southern Government about my whereabouts.

"Ah... I suppose it's my own fault for robbing a capital bank." I sighed with a sense of defeat, clicking my tongue as I surveyed my campsite, observing the flames crackling in the campfire. I shook my head. "But then again, why did it feel like the Southern Government was pushing me to bankruptcy? Everything I purchased was priced higher than it was for other customers. My rent was double the standard rate."

"Maybe I'm just delusional," I chuckled to myself, massaging my forehead between my index finger and thumb.

I gazed through the leaves as the sunlight filtered through, teasing my body with its warmth, while two options weighed on my mind. I could either stay here and depend on the kindness of the old man, or I could travel to Bellingham and attempt to rent an electric car, or at least pretend to rent one and keep “switching” vehicles until I reached Wadhurst.

Both choices carried heavy moral consequences. Turning myself in was something I'd consider once the bounty on me had vanished. I didn't want to die as a criminal; I wanted to have a nice family, a beautiful mansion, and a peaceful life in the countryside. The bounty was no longer "death or arrest"; it was simply "death." The Southern government wanted to eradicate the many gangs and outlaws in the North before they expanded their control.

"Bellingham it is," I muttered as I walked over to the tent, began removing the pegs, and cleaned up the campsite. Hiding any longer in this forest would likely attract the attention of the Southern Government and perhaps even the MacKenzie Gang, as I was sure this wouldn't be my last encounter with them. I could only hope that my next encounter with them didn't result in my death.

After wiping the sweat from my forehead, I slung my heavy backpack onto my back and started walking along the river. I strolled through the lush, overgrown fields bathed in the warm sunlight, making my way along winding roads and beneath the forest's shadow.

Reflecting on it, I marvelled at how I had managed to traverse from Bristol to this forest. It had taken me over eight days to cover the distance, setting up temporary camps to rest along the way. I had chosen Kielder Forest because it was one of the largest in Great Britain, and I had heard that it wasn't a common hideout for outlaws, making it a suitable choice.

I hadn't interacted with many people during my journey, as I had been focused on evading capture. The few individuals I did encounter were mostly retired elders who kindly shared some food with me after I approached them politely. I had played it off as if I were just a hiker in need of a meal, even though I had been rather careless in estimating my food supplies.

As I continued along the narrow roads framed by trees, passing the still-standing church, my weary eyes finally fell upon a simple sign that read, "Welcome to Bellingham."

"I finally made it..." I whispered, panting heavily. The journey had been so long that the sun had set, and the moon now bathed the surroundings in its soft, dreamy glow. I glanced at the church, and the persistent scratchiness in my throat became more pronounced every time I swallowed.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I walked along the green fence wall. However, as I approached the gate, frustration surged within me when I realised that the gate was locked.

"Oh, come on," I groaned quietly as I wrapped my fingers around the cold, green bars of the gate and attempted to pull it open. However, my hopes were dashed when I noticed the lock. I withdrew and sat down on the path, resting my back against the fence.

It seemed I had arrived too late. Now I was faced with the prospect of sleeping on the path, which was far from ideal. I didn't want to rest on the concrete ground. There had to be a hotel or some form of shelter nearby.

"Trying to find your way into the church, are you?" A voice, soft and delicate, emerged from the shadows, just as I contemplated the search for a nearby hotel. I followed the sound, fixing my gaze upon a young woman, fair-skinned, her golden locks swaying like sun-kissed wheat in the breeze. Her cerulean eyes locked onto mine. She appeared to be in her early twenties, a striking contrast to my own age. Clad in a crimson overcoat, denim, and brown boots, she exuded an air of casual grace, her hands nestled in her coat's deep pockets.

"Well, yeah, actually. You, uh, the keeper of this place?" I stammered, attempting to muster a semblance of confidence as I rose to my feet. My hands slipped into my trouser pockets, and I met her unwavering gaze.

"No, I ain't the keeper of this old chapel. No one's been that for three years now," she replied, a hint of laughter dancing on her lips as her gaze drifted towards a black car parked at the church's entrance.

"Then whose car does that belong to?" I inquired, my eyes following her line of sight. She turned her attention back to me, a silence that felt like ages passing before she spoke again.

"That there belonged to the old man who used to own this place, 'fore he passed away," she revealed.

"That's...that's rather sad," I murmured, my gaze dropping to the floor. Death has a way of leaving a lingering ache, even when it claims the good ones. Sometimes, I find myself yearning for a universe where the good live endlessly and the bad don’t… but reality says otherwise.

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"Yeah, it was a sad time for all of us. He was a kind soul, that old man. Once saved me from homelessness and gave me shelter and a meal when I was on the brink a few years back. So, I come here every Sunday to pay my respects," she said, her laughter warm as her eyes fixed upon the church's cross atop the building. I nodded in understanding, letting the silence envelop us, watching as the radiance in her eyes dimmed, if only for a moment.

"Um, were you a Christian?" I stammered, fidgeting with my hands to break the silence.

"Was? Still am. I'm a Christian, just not of the same denomination as this church. It's Catholic, and I'm Protestant," she explained, her smile warm as her gaze drifted to the cross before returning to meet mine. Her eyes, I noticed again, were almost heavenly. "And you, are you a Christian?"

"Oh, no, I don't think I could be one. I'd probably be quite the sinner, and I doubt if heaven, assuming it's real, would have a place for me. I'm not a good person, I suppose." I chuckled nervously, one hand leaving my pocket to scratch the back of my head, feeling a tad embarrassed.

"I don't see a bad man in you. I don't sense it either. A wicked soul wouldn't be having this conversation with me right now. I see a troubled man. You know, as God says, He doesn't hate the sinner; He hates the sin. God looks into a person's heart and sees their true self, not just one wrong deed or their appearance," she reassured me, her words spoken with unwavering confidence and the sweetest tone.

I didn't know how to respond. Her smile, like a gift from the heavens, had captivated me, and I was unsure how to break free. Not many people extended kindness to me because of my family's history. David was the exception, welcoming me for a night. Most folks, knowing my last name was Richardson, ignored or avoided me due to my notoriety. I understood it, but sometimes I yearned to connect with people as a fellow human being, not feel like a monster.

I debated whether to reveal my name to this woman. Her smile was too precious to risk getting rid of.

"Thank you, I suppose. I should be on my way now; I don't want to intrude on your alone time." I lightly chuckled, turning away from her. I had to find a hotel for the night, my thoughts a muddle of emotions and unanswered questions.

"Today's not Sunday; it's Tuesday. I just got back from a festival down the road," the woman chuckled softly.

"Ah, I see. Well, have a great day," I said with an awkward smile, quickening my pace. I pulled my hoodie over my face and scanned the bustling streets, searching for any signs of a hotel.

Thankfully, as I delved deeper into the village, I stumbled upon a vintage-looking white building with the words "Black Bull Hotel" in black letters at its centre. I hurried inside, immediately enveloped in a comforting warmth that felt like a mother's embrace on a cold night.

The black carpet cradled my tired feet, while the white walls offered solace. A bar stood to the right, and an elderly woman, dressed in plain red pyjamas with silver hair tied in a ponytail, wiped a glass clean. Her glasses glistened under the warm ceiling lights that ran down the centre of the narrow room.

"Excuse me, ma'am." I raised my voice gently, not wanting to startle her. When she heard me, she put down the glass she was cleaning, and I gave her a small smile before approaching. "Do you happen to have a spare room I could rent?"

"A spare room?" She inquired, her voice slightly quivering as she consulted a list to her left. "Yes, we do have a spare room. Are you looking for a one-night rental?" She then looked up at me.

"Yes, just for one night," I replied politely, slipping my backpack off my shoulder and unzipping the side pocket. I reached inside the backpack, feeling for a leathery texture. My fingers found a wallet, and I pulled it out, revealing a black leather wallet. I set my backpack down and opened the wallet.

"Well, for one night, it's £8," the old lady informed me. I peered deeper into my wallet, realising I only had pennies instead of pound coins. Frustration welled up, and I closed my eyes momentarily, then looked down at the floor, biting the inside of my mouth to control my annoyance.

"Is there any way to make it less? I don't have any pounds, but I can do something, like cleaning, to cover the cost," I pleaded.

"Sorry, dear. If you don't have £8, I can't rent you a room for the night," the old lady replied, her voice carrying a touch of sympathy. I stuffed my wallet back into my pocket with a sigh.

I guess I'll have to sleep on the ground or find a spot to set up a makeshift camp near the woods. But setting up camp takes time. There has to be a solution.

Oh, forget it. Begging won't help.

I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder once more. I couldn't use my abdominal wound as an excuse; that would feel manipulative. I'd have to find a place to camp in the forest, it seemed.

"I'll cover it," a voice chimed in beside me, and a small, pale hand entered my field of vision, coins jingling within. I looked up to see the same woman I had met outside the church. She noticed my gaze and offered an innocent smile.

"Oh, Alena, my dear. Do you know this man?" The old lady inquired, her voice brimming with joy as she accepted the coins from Alena's hand.

"No, I just met him a couple of minutes ago," Alena replied with a smile, meeting the old lady's gaze. However, I couldn't help but notice the judgmental glint in Heidi's eyes as she looked directly at me.

"Why would you pay for a stranger?" Heidi asked, her tone holding a hint of judgement, though still polite.

"Oh, come on now; there's no need for that judgmental look, Heidi. He just seemed like a nice guy, and I'm just being kind by helping him out," Alena said with a gentle grin, briefly glancing at me before returning her gaze to Heidi.

"Alright then, you can have a room for the night," Heidi conceded, her gaze softening as she looked at me. A rush of happiness washed over me, and I couldn't help but beam from Heidi to Alena.

"Thank you, thank you so much. You're an amazing woman!" I exclaimed, my smile beaming, and I turned back to Heidi. "So, which room should I go to?"

"The second room on the right, upstairs," Heidi replied, the judgmental look replaced with a gentle smile.

I hurried to the foot of the stairs and then glanced back at Alena. She was smiling at me, like she was proud of me. I nodded in gratitude before speaking to her.

"Thank you; you've made a man in his thirties feel like a young child again," I said, a broad smile on my face. Alena's eyes widened.

"You're in your thirties? You don't look like a man in his thirties. You seem a lot younger, more my age," she said in astonishment, her surprise giving way to a giggle. She briefly covered her mouth and looked away before turning back to me with an even brighter smile. "You're welcome. I'll come see you in the morning. Sleep well."

"Thank you." I expressed my gratitude again before ascending the stairs in search of the second room on the right.